


Final Message Found on UNIT Hard Drive

by MissDeMarcuss



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDeMarcuss/pseuds/MissDeMarcuss
Summary: This document was found in a destroyed underground UNIT base. No survivors were found in the base and nobody know what happened there. This is the strongest clue they found. It was leaked Was onto a small forum last month but was taken down, so I've re-uploaded it here. Everyone Must read!
Kudos: 2





	Final Message Found on UNIT Hard Drive

**Author's Note:**

> 234631102016  
> Most Recent Document Found on UNIT Hard Drive  
> Notes: Author is believed to be Professor Alice Michaels. Her lanyard was found next to the recovered computer. Her account was the last logged onto the computer. Against protocol, this document was not saved to the cloud. Her body has not been recovered. She is believed to be dead.

Don’t befriend a Dalek. They have about as much in common with you as an octopus has with a chimpanzee. You’re both alive. That’s it.  
But I know some of you are smart arses because that first statement would suggest you, a human, can befriend a Dalek. Which is true. Behave in just the right way and you can be friends.

How?  
You love your dog, don’t you? And the cat that you’re certain judges you from afar. Two different species can get along. Some even think the relationship between owner and pet is a special kind of friendship.  
Why?  
Pets are useful. It’s hard to herd sheep without a dog and Daleks know that.

Except, returning to that first statement, don’t. Daleks are weird. Particularly about friendships. Because they only have friendships. No parents, siblings, spouses or any other kind of relationship. So, the standard Dalek’s concept of ‘friendship’ is a bit different.  
Let me break this down in a simple way. Romance, attraction, love and arousal, throw those things out the door. Daleks don’t have them; they don’t want them nor have any interest in them. Daleks aren’t seeking emotional bonds. They have shit to do.  
The first thing that’ll get a Dalek to like you is to do your job. Extra brownie points, if you do it well and efficiently. So, suck at your task. Be a lazy fuck. Under preform. Complain and whine. Absolutely break that fancy Dalek-made machinery by ‘accident’.  
The second thing is a showcase of intelligence. The Dalek view is way more open and lower than you’d think. Seriously, the tiniest flash of independent thinking will impress them. They assume humans are pea-brained drones that are purposeless without a Dalek blearing commands at them. The best way to avoid intrigue is by ignoring Daleks completely. It’s not an order until they repeat it five times, minimum. Don’t get cocky either. Aside from being outright dumb, they also count it as intelligence.  
The third is the most concerning. If you start regurgitating anything that, from a Dalek perspective, sounds like you’re ready to conquer and destroy. Well, that makes you the best human. An endearing human. One who’s desperately trying to crawl out of humanity and evolve into something decent. Hey, you know what’s an acceptable race? Daleks, obviously. Have you considered becoming one because, Oh- boy, I have horrifying news for you!

Daleks reproduce.

Not like humans do. They don’t have a holiday for strategized fucking. They infect. Daleks produce viral reproductive cells. The worst STD ever. To put the science concept into normal talk, the Dalek reproductive virus is the sperm and you’re the egg.  
Once infected you experience the worst fever of your life. It induces hallucinations. A day in and your hit with a full body hot itch. It burns absolutely everywhere. In places you never thought could itch. you cry your throat dry and start peeling away patches of skin.  
The initial scratchy hell lasts for a week. During which your unhelpful Dalek friend will be building the casing you will live out your existence in. When the itch has relinquished, fatigue hits you like a bus. You lull between sleep and consciousness unable to tell the difference. Your muscles are exposed, abdomen is ballooned. The smell is potent. A mix of projectile vomiting episodes, your inability to control bodily functions and rot. Because what you’re expelling is rejected bits of human.  
An iridescent mucus slowly seeps from your remaining pores, marking the start of the cocooning period. You’re thankful for the life support mechanisms of the casing. Your previously vital organs are eaten for nourishment. The more difficult parts to absorb, large bones & etc, often get surgically removed. The casing provides concoctions to deal with the rest.  
In the end, all that remains of your human body is the skull, or husk thereof. It has gained a leathery, parchment-like quality. You’ll sense your limbs tear yourself out of it. But you won’t have limbs. You’ll have tendrils. Ten or eleven, if exception. Your casing will latch onto them and you’ll be forced to adapt. The Dalek hivemind will bombard your mind. A surge of Dalek commands, Dalek society and expectations. Fail to keep up and the casing will spit you out. Your new-born form will die from exposure unable to survive alone.

And throughout that entire process, you remember everything.

Your human whole life. Your family, childhood home, dog and cat. Playground games. The person you had a crush on. Trivial high school stress. Your questionable hairstyle choices. The parties. Late nights and sleep-ins. The one you fell in love with. The day of your wedding. Your greatest moments and your weakest. The history-changing events. Invasions, battles and war. Your Dalek friend. The consequential infection, fever, delirium, confusion and pain.

Don’t befriend a Dalek.


End file.
